


Buir

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Officer/Subordinate, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Fives knows he’s in trouble the second he steps off the transport and sees his new commanding officer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hover over the Mando'a for the translations, or scroll to the end for full translations!

Fives knows he’s in trouble the second he steps off the transport and sees his new commanding officer.  Sergeant O’Niner is like no other clone he’s ever seen.  He’s tall and broad - well, they all are, but it’s  _ different _ \- and where most of them have either the standard black hair or dye it, the sergeant has silver streaks at his temples that make Fives’ mouth go a little dry when he looks at him.  The way he carries himself, confident and commanding, that gets his attention too, and he’s more grateful for armor and a bucket than he’s ever been in his short life, especially when the sergeant starts barking orders.   _ Oh gods _ .  

He waits till they’re alone later, all of Domino sticking close for the time being.  “I’m gonna fuck him.”

“ _ Fives _ .  He is a  _ sergeant _ .”

He rolls his eyes at Echo and drawls out, “ _ And _ ?”

“You can’t have sex with a commanding officer, are you defective?  Besides, he’d never agree to it.”

He smirks.  “Got ten credits that say you’re wrong.  Hevy?  Cutup, Droidbait, you in?”

None of them even look up from their sabacc game, but ‘Bait shakes his head.  “Not a chance.  I’m not betting on whether you’re gonna embarrass yourself.”  They break into laughter, and that just solidifies his plan.

* * *

 

O’Niner usually doesn’t have patience for the shenanigans of the shinies under his command.  He’s done it all and seen it all, and he just wants them to settle down and do their kriffing jobs like he damn well told them to.  He assumes Domino Squad is just going to be more of the same when they ship in, and for the most part, he’s right.  They’re a bunch of energetic kids, with more gett’se than sense between them, but there’s something different about them - if he’s right, and after the number of shinies that have come through Rishi before going out into the galaxy, he almost always is - they could all make ARC before the year is out.  

Fives seems to be their unofficial leader, mostly by virtue of being the loudest and most stubborn, and O’Niner knows he can keep all of them in line if he gets through to him first.  There’s a lot of swagger in the kid, enough that it’s pretty damned obvious that he’s just trying to control shit when he doesn’t have a snowball’s chance on Mustafar of doing any such thing.  Alright, he can work with that.

The trouble starts when O’Niner realizes just how responsive Fives is to praise.  Any praise.  The smallest gesture of approval and he lights up like a kriffing Life Day decoration, even if he tries to hide it.  It’s not hard to find reasons to praise him either - he’s a damn good soldier, and he’s losing that edge of fear most of the boys off Kamino have.  He remembers it himself, the fear of not being good enough, the desperate edge to prove that you were good enough to earn the right to live.  It’s nine kinds of fucked up, but it’ll turn into real confidence instead of scared bravado soon enough.  He finds himself wanting to help with that - it’s the first inkling that he has that  _ Manda, he’s already fucked _ .

* * *

 

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with the sergeant, how’s that plan of yours going?”  Cutup leans against the wall next to Fives’ bunk, his arms crossed over his chest.  Out of the corner of his eye, Fives can see the rest of Domino closing in, even Echo.

“It’s going,” Fives says with a too-casual shrug.  He can already tell that none of them are buying it, especially when Hevy snorts.

“Sure, that’s why you were moaning  _ buir _ in your sleep last night.  And this morning when you were trying to be quiet jerking off.”

Fives doesn’t even respond, just chucks a boot at him and strides out.  He’s in so much damned trouble.

Echo finds him later, while he’s definitely not  _ sulking _ in the corner of the mess hall, back to the wall and arms crossed over his chest, a cold cup of caff in front of him while he’s deep in thought.  “So… what are you going to do about this?” he asks, sitting down across from Fives, directly in the line of sight to the wall he’s been glaring a hole in for the last hour.  “The sergeant, I mean.”

“Know what the hells you mean,” Fives says, his voice sharp with irritation before he sighs, “Sorry, Echo.  I know you meant well enough.  Not gonna do a kriffing thing though.”  He shrugs one shoulder with a little laugh.  “No way in all nine hells a vet like him is gonna want a shiny like me, even without strings attached.  Just gonna leave it alone, we’ll be reassigned soon enough and we’ll forget this ever happened.  Besides, weren't you the one going on about how I'd never have a chance with him?”  

Echo reaches out to rest a hand on Fives’ wrist, though he looks for a moment like he’s waiting for it to be shaken off.  “It doesn’t have to be that way.  I’ve seen the way he looks at you too.   _ Talk _ to him, Fives.  We all know how much you like him.  You smile more when he’s talking to you.  It’s… it’s good to see you like this.  You hold yourself differently.”  He gives his brother a little smile and a nod.  “I mean it, talk to him, okay?”

“Okay, I will.”  Fives wraps a hand around his wrist, holding it for a long moment.  “Thanks, vod.”

“Don’t mention it.  And at least this way none of us have to hear you saying his name anymore - kriff, I know we’ve got short reload times, but you don’t have to prove it every night.”  Echo’s grin is wicked and fast, and he bolts for the door while Fives groans.

* * *

 

O’Niner is at his desk when he hears the knock, sipping a glass of contraband whiskey and sorting through the endless digital piles of osik his superiors stack on his datapad every day.  Manda, he is damned tired, and he doesn’t want to know who the hells is at his door at this hour.  “If there’s a fight, handle it yourselves and try to stay out of the medbay,” he calls back.  There are fights almost every Manda-damned day on the base - too kriffing much energy and testosterone, and not enough ways to work it off.  

“It’s just me, Sarge.”  He didn’t expect to hear Fives’ voice answering him, but it’s a welcome break from whatever report is on his screen that he’s read at least three times without understanding a word of the political bantha shit.  He sets both datapad and whiskey aside, and calls the kid in.  Fives looks sheepish and shy as he steps inside, hiding it the way he always does, with brash self-assurance.  It’s the subtle tells that O’Niner has learned to read - the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes dart anywhere but at him.  

“Come on in, Fives.  And I’ve told you to call me O’Niner when we’re both off-duty.”  He stretches out tensed muscles, sighing heavily as he leans back.  “What can I help you with?”

Fives doesn’t sit down at his gesture, instead standing a little straighter and taking a deep breath.  “I have a proposition.  You don’t have to say yes - or even answer right now.  If you don’t want this, then I won’t ever bring it up again-”

“Son, just spit it out already, no sense in working yourself up.”

“Fuck me, sir.  Please.

O’Niner doesn’t speak for a long moment, raising one silver brow as he stares Fives down.   His crisis is past, and he knows what he wants.  He wants  _ Fives _ , beautifully wrecked and moaning his name.  He’s been fantasizing about it for weeks, and after the first few days of jerking off in the ‘fresher, feeling flushed and guilty for thinking about a trooper like  _ that _ , he started keeping an eye on Fives, watching him carefully and creating a pattern of behavior.  He’s known how the kid felt about him for a while, but he wasn’t going to be the one pursuing anything.  If Fives wanted it enough, he would come to him; he wouldn’t put him in the position of refusing a superior or feeling like he  _ couldn’t _ .  It would have to be Fives’ choice completely.  The air is charged as the trooper in front of him lifts his chin, waiting for a response.  “Alright.”

“Alright?”  Fives’ eyes widen as he says it, like he wasn’t expecting a positive response.

“Alright,” O’Niner repeats, “But first things first, let’s get a few things cleared up.  Inside this room, there’s no ranks; we’re equal.  There’s something you don’t like, or you don’t wanna do, you speak up.  You’re free to leave - or tell  _ me _ to leave, at any time.  You call me whatever you like, Sarge, O’Niner, anything.  I’m not gonna give you orders-”

“What if I want you to?”  Oh  _ hells _ .  The look on Fives’ face is almost shy, and he has to take a minute to get his own reaction under control.  The kid’s damn pretty like that, all wide eyes and a coy little smile.  He crowds into O’Niner’s space, herding him back into the chair at the makeshift desk he’s set up, before settling his weight over his thighs.  “What if I want to call you buir?”

That is way hotter than it has any kriffing right to be.  “Like I said,  _ ad'ika _ ,” and the inflection on that makes Fives shiver in his lap, “You call me whatever you like.”

“Buir,” Fives whispers, touching his forehead to O’Niner’s, running his fingers through the silvering streaks in his dark hair, and it’s the sergeant’s turn to shiver at the intimacy in the way his accent curls around the word.

“You gotta promise me one thing though, ad’ika, you gonna be a good boy for me?”  His voice is lower and rougher, and his hand - calloused from years of holding a rifle - turns Fives’ chin up to meet his eyes.

The trooper nods, his eyes going a little wider.  “I will, I promise.”  

O’Niner smiles.  “Good boy.”  Fives whines low in his throat at that, his lips parting a little as he grinds up against him, almost on instinct, and he clicks his tongue at him in reproval.  “ _ Ah _ , did I say you could?”

“No, buir.”  He looks appropriately chastened, but there’s a gleam of pure  _ trouble _ in his gaze that makes O’Niner sigh.  This kid is made of trouble and not much else.  “But you didn’t say I couldn’t.”

The startled look on Fives’ face when he cracks the flat of his palm over his hip makes up for it, and so does the soft little whimper that breaks from his lips.  “I know damn well that you know better, ad’ika.  Now, are you gonna behave, or do I need to make my point a little clearer?”  He shakes his head, cheeks flushed - whether it’s at the chastisement or his own reaction, O’Niner isn’t sure - and he goes still.  “That’s what I thought.  Now, you’re gonna stay right here on my lap till you can get yourself under control, yeah?  Let buir take care of you.”    

Fives nods and leans into the brush of a hand over his cheek, tilting his head to kiss O’Niner’s palm.  “Okay-”  He whines at the loss of contact.

“What was that, ad’ika?”

“Yes sir, buir.”  He smiles as O’Niner rewards him with a kiss, sighing happily as he returns it, leaning into the warmth of his chest.  

It’s only when he feels the touch of Fives’ hand slipping below the waistband of his blacks that he realizes it was a ploy.  “Up,” O’Niner growls the order, coupling it with physically lifting Fives off his lap and turning him in the same motion, sending him sprawling over his thighs, “Mir’sheb, thought you could get away with that, didn’t you?”  A quick motion has Fives’ blacks pooled around his ankles, but he pauses for a moment, his hand resting on the back of the kid’s neck.  “Still alright?”  He doesn’t want to break the mood, but they haven’t quite talked about this.  

Fives is already half-hard against his thigh and panting, flushed dark enough that the color is spreading down below the collar of his blacks.  “ _ Yes _ .  Kriff, yes.”  

Sounds good enough to him.  O’Niner pulls back a hand and brings it down on his ass, earning a yelp.  “You keep that up and I’m gonna have to gag you.  Hush, ad’ika.”  He smiles a little as the next slap lands and Fives whimpers, but manages to keep himself quiet.  “That’s better, good boy.”  His ass is already flushed, handprints standing out in bright red, and he smirks.  The next few slaps land quickly, not giving him a chance to catch his breath.  Kriff, he’s about to slide right off his lap, he’s so boneless.  He should have tried this a month ago, it works a hells of a lot better than KP or cleaning the ‘freshers.  “Look at you, you’re being so good for me, I knew you would be.  Just a matter of giving you the right incentive, yeah?”  He takes another minute or two, varying the strength he uses and where his hand lands, just to hear Fives moan.  The keen he gets when he slaps the inside of his thigh is just gorgeous, and he finally lifts the trooper into his lap again.  Fives is flushed, his lip swollen and red where he’s clearly been biting it to stay quiet, and his pupils are blown completely, eyes glazed over and dark.  “You did good, ad’ika, you were quiet, just like I asked.”  O’Niner runs his fingers over his cheek again and tugs him down for a kiss.  He doesn’t try anything this time, and he smiles against Fives’ lips in approval.

Fives kisses him back almost desperately, and he’s vibrating with controlled energy and desire.  “Buir, please- please touch me?”  He looks up, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed - how the hells can he say no to that?  

“Alright, stand up, get undressed for me.”  He leans back to watch as Fives strips down, unmarred skin on full display.  “Fold your clothes properly, don’t want to get those wrinkled.” He finishes the whiskey in his glass, his eyes never leaving the trooper in front of him.  His free hand goes to the zipper of his own blacks, sliding it down before drawing out his own hard cock, stroking himself as he watches.

Fives looks shy again - he knows it’s not shame, they’re clones, for Manda’s sake, and they share quarters and showers.  “You ever been with anybody?” O’Niner asks, and raises a brow, his hand slowing on his length.  If not, they were gonna have a lot to talk about.

He nods, his cheeks going pink.  “Yes sir, buir.  A couple, on Kamino.  Nobody since-”  He flushes even darker, and O’Niner smiles.

“Good boy, that’s good.  Open the top drawer in my desk, and bring that bottle over here.” When Fives hurries to obey, he shakes his head, but he pats his lap anyway.  “Now come on, sit back down.  I’m gonna take good care of you, ad’ika, I promise.”  Fives bounds back over, slipping into his lap eagerly.  O’Niner squeezes his ass, smirking at the hiss it earns him, the skin under his hands hot and swollen from the spanking.  Slowly, he slips his fingers further, circling his hole, a furrow appearing between his brows as he feels slickness there.  “You already-”

“I couldn’t resist, buir, I was thinking of you, and…”  Fives looks utterly unrepentant, grinning at him, wrists draped over his shoulders, and oh  _ Manda _ , that goes straight to his cock - Fives on his knees, moaning his name while he works himself open.  He growls, pressing two fingers in to check him while Fives gasps out a breathy  _ “Buir _ .”

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, ad’ika,” lucky he’s desperate to feel that tight, wet heat around his cock, “I ought to give you another spanking for getting ahead of yourself, but not today.”  He pulls his hand away and wipes it clean, satisfied that Fives is as ready as he’ll ever be for him.  “Ready, Fiv’ika?”  At his nod, O’Niner lifts him just a bit, helping him to slide down on him  _ slowly. _  It’s sweet torture, and Fives’ panting only makes it better.

They go still for a moment, Fives’ fingers buried in his hair, running along the silver streaks again.  His breath hitches every time he shifts the slightest amount - the soft sounds he’s making are barely audible, but O’Niner is already drunk on them.  “Buir, gedet'ye,” he whispers, and it sounds close to a sob.  

"Nayc.”  He’s waiting for the moment he  _ knows _ Fives has given up control.  It’s what he needs, what all this was about.  “Pare.”

“ _ "Gedet'ye." _ ”  

“Nu jii.”  His commanding tone hasn’t wavered at all.  Fives squirms for another moment before something in his expression shifts and he quiets down.  “Gar serim, ad’ika. Tsikala?”

Fives nods, his expression softer as their eyes meet, and he starts to move, rolling his hips down.  His lips part as he rides his cock, and O’Niner is quick to move in for a kiss - slow and filthy, relishing in every soft whimper.  The kid isn’t as noisy as he’d thought, with how much he mouths off at every turn, but that makes this all the sweeter, seeing a side of him that no one else does.  He can feel when Fives’ thighs start to tremble while he’s riding him, and he rocks up to meet him, groaning into another kiss.  “Jate,” he whispers, touching their foreheads together, a hand on the back of his neck, “Bid’jate, ad’ika.” That, along with a hand on his cock, are enough to make Fives come with a low moan, his eyes closed as he shudders.  It doesn’t take O’Niner long to follow him, a few more thrusts before he pulls Fives down hard, a moan on his own lips as he follows him over that edge.  They stay like that while they both catch their breath, fingers in each other’s hair, foreheads touching, sharing space and breath as they come down from their highs.  “You alright?”  O’Niner looks up at him, fingers slipping from his hair to cup his cheek. 

Fives nods, blinking away the glassy look in his eyes.  He winces a little as he pulls himself off his lap and stretches out his spine, grabbing a nearby rag to clean them both up.  It isn’t long before he’s back on O’Niner’s lap, half-dressed and curled up, head tucked under the sergeant’s chin.  “I’m okay, buir, but… can I stay here for a little while?”  He looks up at him with those pleading eyes, and he can’t say no even if he wanted to.  

“As long as you want, Fiv’ika.”  He smiles as he runs his fingers through the trooper’s hair, picking up his datapad with his other hand.  It isn’t the most comfortable position, but there isn’t much he won’t do for the kid.  Fives drifts off to the soft scratching sound of stylus on screen as O’Niner starts on his work, the two of them content and settled in for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Buir - father/daddy  
> Ad'ika- little one  
> Gedet'ye - please  
> Nayc - no  
> Nu jii - not yet  
> Gar serim - that's it  
> Tsikala? - ready?  
> Jate - good  
> Bid'jate - so/very good


End file.
